Falling
by Mrs. Elizabeth Gibbs
Summary: Tag to 'Broken'. Details time between 'Jeopardy' and 'Hiatus'; how Jenny and Gibbs got together and fell apart. Jenny's world crumbles and she resorts to old coping mechanisms. When he comes back, the blonde doesn't help. Rated for cutting/smut. Jibbs.


A/N: Thank Jibbsgal1 for this-she requested it way back in the beginning of April, during one of our marathon conversations. It's rated M for smut and cutting, so be warned that it may get a little graphic (but it's rated more for the cutting than anything else); more so than 'Broken' was, at least. The title is from the song 'Falling' by The Civil Wars-it's haunting. You should read 'Broken' before you read this; it will make more sense.

'Torn' should be posted in a few weeks.

Disclaimer: I own the plot, and my OCs (if they pop up in this story; to be honest I'm not sure if they will yet or not).

"_Please, please tell me you know, I've got to let you go. I can't help falling out of love with you."_

* * *

><p>Jenny Shepard finally felt clean.<p>

It had taken three showers, but she finally felt like the filth from her attackers' hands was gone from her skin. Now in her kitchen with a cup of coffee, she was dressed in black yoga pants and a light blue tank top, and her short hair had already mostly dried.

She was trying to muster up the courage to eat something, but she was too nervous that she'd throw it right back up. She was shaky and sore, and she felt like her head was being attacked by a jackhammer.

Alex had reminded her of Bobby.

His roughness, the way he'd shoved her-it had sent memories of Bobby through her, and she desperately wished for them to go away. She didn't want to think about Bobby; she couldn't stand the thought of him anymore.

Taking a large sip of coffee, she focused on the hot liquid as it scorched its way down her throat. She closed her eyes, resting her head back against the wooden kitchen chair.

Suddenly, there was a loud knock on the door, and she groaned, setting her mug on the table and pushing herself out of her chair. She walked to her front door and yanked it open, ready to rip someone a new one, when she stopped, speechless.

Because standing on her front step was none other than one Leroy Jethro Gibbs.

"Jethro…what can I do for you?" she asked, leaning against the door slightly. He was silent for a moment, and Jenny frowned, wondering what was wrong, until she remembered what she was wearing. Her tank top had dipped slightly, and the top of the cup of her black, satiny bra peaked out over the blue material.

She looked up, her stomach tightening at the dark, cobalt gaze that was suddenly locked with hers. She watched him swallow as she tugged on the shirt, wanting to see his reaction as more of the bra was revealed.

"See something you like?" she asked huskily, her voice low and sultry as she looked at him from underneath her lashes.

This was an insanely bad idea. Getting involved with him again was not smart. And yet here she stood, practically baiting him to come inside and take her. And she knew he would-she was counting on him to make sure the memories that were haunting her stayed beneath the surface tonight.

"You offering?" he asked, his voice slightly strained as he tried to keep his composure. But he kept slipping; his eyes darted between her face and her breasts, and the fire that was growing in his eyes was heading south fast.

Instead of answering directly, Jenny slowly and deliberately reached for the hem of her tank top and drew it over her head in one motion, and she stood in front of him in only her bra and pants.

"What do you think?" she asked, letting her hands fall to her waist and toy with the hem of her pants. He swallowed hard, and she figured she had about five seconds.

Four and a half seconds later, he was in the house and had the door closed, and was pulling her closer by the waist. She went easily, letting her defenses down and closing her eyes as she melted into his kiss. It felt just as good as it had six years ago; it almost felt like she had never left.

His hands were rough and warm against the skin of her hips and waist, and she pressed closer, a shiver running down her spine when he traced it with his index finger. She let out a moan as he trailed his lips from hers down to her neck, nipping the soft skin lightly. Her head fell back, and she gasped for breath as he suckled the skin, sure to leave a mark in the morning.

She threaded her hands into his silvery hair and yanked his head back up to her level, kissing him again. He started to back her towards the stairs, obviously heading for her bedroom, but that was too far, at least for the first time. She shook her head, instead moving for the study.

"Too far, too many stairs," she answered when he looked confused, pulling him with her into the study, shoving him back into the desk chair and then straddling his lap. "Next time it'll be the bed, I promise."

She pressed her hips firmly into his, then her manicured hands settled against his warm neck as his hands cupped her ass, pressing her closer to him. She could feel his arousal through the denim in his jeans, and she let out a soft moan at the sensation it elicited.

She kissed him easily, languidly, igniting the fire that would start this. Soon enough both their mouths were open, and then clothes starting shedding from both of them.

Jethro's polo shirt was on the ground moments later, followed by his white t-shirt, and then his shoes and socks came off. Now clad in only his jeans, he focused on her; his hands made their way into her yoga pants and slipped them off, revealing even more soft, porcelain skin to his eyes and hands, which he took full advantage of.

Before she knew it, they were both naked, and he was inside her. She moaned as he moved, her face buried in his neck, nipping and sucking at the skin, intent to mark him as he had her. He shifted his hips and changed the angle, and she cried out, letting him know that that was the spot.

She bit his neck when ecstasy flooded her, leading him to his own climax moments later. Together they lay panting, foreheads pressed together as they came down from their high. Jenny's skin felt sticky and sweaty, and Jethro was still inside of her, but she hadn't felt this content in years.

She couldn't get enough of it.

Jethro cleared his throat, and she looked up, raising one eyebrow at him.

"About that promise…"

Grinning, she nodded, leaning forward to kiss him again.

It was going to be a long night.

* * *

><p>"You realize that I do need to leave, right?" Jenny said, drawing her foot up his leg, the nail of her big toe brushing his skin and making him groan appreciatively. "And you need to get to the ship."<p>

"Mm, but I'd rather just stay in bed," Jethro murmured, his hands sliding dangerously low on her torso, brushing her hips and lower, earning himself a low moan from her. "Much more fun than a dinner and working on a ship."

"Since when do we do 'fun' instead of work?" Jenny asked, raising one eyebrow at him questioningly.

"I'll give you an example," Jethro said, his mouth brushing her neck, his voice low in her ear. "Last week, on your desk."

Jenny's breath caught in her throat at the memory of Jethro taking her on her desk last week, and she bit back the moan, closing her eyes.

"Not helping," Jenny said, her voice hoarse as the want built within her. She couldn't miss this dinner; as much as she wanted to just stay in bed with Jethro, they both had jobs to do. "We need to get up, Jethro. Now."

He hummed against her neck, and she let out a low moan as his hand wandered lower on her body underneath the covers. Her breath caught in her throat, and she knew that if she didn't move now, she was never leaving this bed.

"Alright, I'm getting up," she said, throwing back the covers and standing, her knees shaky. She could feel Jethro's eyes on her ass, but she could handle his eyes; just not his hands. "You better too, unless you'd prefer to shower alone."

He couldn't get up fast enough.

* * *

><p>He didn't remember.<p>

Had it really been only yesterday that they'd been in bed, making love and laughing? Now, that seemed a distant memory as she stepped into the hospital room where he lay asleep. No longer was there a breathing tube, but Jethro's features were filled with pain and anguish.

Swallowing hard, her heart hurt as it beat in her chest. She reached his side and slipped her hand into his, watching as his eyes opened and then closed again. The blue depths were hollows of pain, and her chest hurt with each breath.

There had been so much she hadn't known.

"Jethro," her voice was soft, and his eyes opened again, trying to focus on her.

"Shannon?"

His hesitant question stopped her heart, and she fought back the tears. She couldn't believe all she hadn't known about him.

"No Jethro, it's me, Jenny," she said, watching as he swallowed hard, sitting up slightly in the bed, his hand slipping out of hers. "You still don't remember me?"

She watched his eyes as they flickered, and she prayed that he remembered something.

"Maybe," he said, clearing his throat.

"I'm Jenny. We were partners," Jenny said, her heart hammering in her ribs as she waited.

"After Shannon died?" Jethro asked, and she couldn't help feeling like he wanted 'yes' to be the answer.

"Yes," she answered, and his shoulders relaxed a little bit.

"Did I marry again?" he asked after a short silence that was laced with awkwardness.

"Three times," she replied, watching as his eyes widened slightly.

"No way," he said, an almost nervous laughter appearing.

"I'm afraid so," Jenny said, trying to laugh with him, but it hurt too much.

"You're an ex-wife," the realization seemed to hit him, and Jenny swallowed hard. She wasn't, but she could have been. Or the current wife.

"God, no," she replied, forcing a laugh. Her next words almost stung as they left her throat. "I'm the Director of NCIS."

"For a moment I thought you were somebody else," he said, disappointment darkening the blue of his eyes. Jenny swallowed, and she realized what he must have had some flash of memory. She just wondered which time he'd had a flashback of.

"You remembered us making love, didn't you Jethro?" she asked, her voice soft. He swallowed hard, casting his gaze downward as he pulled himself into a sitting position.

She waited; would he remember something recent, or in Europe?

"An attic," he admitted roughly, clearing his throat. Jenny's heart dropped to her toes; that was Marseille, that second night. That wasn't recent; that wasn't their current relationship.

He didn't remember.

"It's a start," Jenny said, swallowing again. He at least remembered her intimately; that meant something. "I have to show you some photographs, if that's alright."

"Go ahead," Jethro said, nodding to her. She pulled the pictures out of her briefcase, spreading them out on the blankets. She watched as his eyes scanned them, trying to place them.

"Do you recognize anyone from the ship?" Jenny asked, but her heart rate increased as his face began to darken while he tried to recognize the men in the pictures. "Jeth-"

"You need a name, right?" he asked, his eyes flicking to her face before returning to the pictures.

"Well, yes, but don't hurt-"

"I can do this!" Jethro interrupted, gritting his teeth. But Jenny could see the pain, both emotional and physical, etched in the lines on his face.

"Jethro, please…"

"I need to help them; I couldn't save Shannon or Kelly, I will help you!" he replied, but the tears had started, and Jenny's throat closed up. "I need to make it up to my baby girl."

"Oh Jethro," Jenny said, her voice so soft she didn't think he could even hear her. But when he looked at her his eyes were vacant, and she knew he wasn't seeing her.

"Shannon," he said, his voice hoarse. He found her hand on the blankets, his fingers squeezing hers. "Shannon, you're here."

"I'm here," Jenny whispered through her tears, her voice thick with them. "I'm here."

After he'd fallen back asleep, she put the pictures back in her briefcase and walked straight out of the room and the hospital.

She wasn't coming back.

* * *

><p>She stood when he stood, her heart sinking to her toes at his words. She tried to keep the tears at bay, but a few slipped down her cheeks regardless.<p>

"Please," she whispered, shaking her head. "Please stay."

His eyes softened, their blue a liquid sapphire color, and he stepped closer to her, heat radiating from his body. His hand gently cupped her cheek, and he tenderly ran his thumb along her bottom lip, looking into her eyes as the tears continued to slip down her cheeks.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, and for a moment, there was genuine pain in his eyes. But it disappeared as quickly as it came, and she feared she'd imagined it. "But I can't stay."

Then his hand was gone, his warmth had left her, and he was walking out of her office, down the stairs into the bullpen. She wiped away the tears, steeling her resolve as she went out to the catwalk, leaning heavily on the railing as she watched him say goodbye to the team.

Abby looked devastated; her green eyes were large and wet, her body rigid as she fought to keep the tears away. Tony and Tim didn't know what to say, and Ziva looked pained. Ducky looked up at her, his eyes wide and concerned when he caught her gaze. His gaze asked the question he couldn't voice, and one sharp shake of her head was all the answer he needed. His face softened, and the anguish that had been sitting in the center of her chest intensified at the pity that shone in the kind doctor's eyes.

Jethro walked over to Ducky, saying something before turning back, his gaze going to each of them. When they settled on her and he spoke again, Jenny barely held back the tears.

"Semper Fi," he said simply, giving them one final nod before going to the elevator, the doors closing behind him. Jenny's heart shattered, her knees practically giving out from underneath her. Suddenly, the urge to find a razor overcame her, and she swallowed, raw need piercing her throat like a knife.

She numbly collected her things from her office, going out with her detail and getting into the car, staring out the window as Melvin drove. She blinked when the car stopped; the ride had barely felt like ten seconds to her. But then her gaze flicked over her house and settled on her bedroom window, where relief lay.

After saying goodnight to her detail and locking her door, she dropped her bag on the front table, hung up her coat, slipped out of her heels, and headed for the stairs. As soon as she entered her bedroom she shut and locked the door and then went over to her bedroom window and shut the curtains, keeping the room closed off from public viewing.

She slipped off her shirt and pants, leaving herself in her bra and panties, and walked quietly into the bathroom. The razors were in the cabinet by the sink, and it only took her a second to pull one out and slip the plastic cover off. She grabbed the scissors out of the cabinet as well, and soon enough the blade had been freed, and then it sat gleaming in her palm.

Seconds later, the blade was digging into her left arm; crimson red beads of blood making liquid lines on her forearm. She bit her lip as the pain radiating from her skin; it felt good to finally feel something after two days of numbness.

The blood trickled down her pale forearm, and she watched it leak out of her skin, red rivers coursing down to her wrists. She raised the blood-covered blade another inch higher on her skin, and slashed a straight line with the razor blade.

Now, two gashes lay gleaming red in her skin, but she wasn't done. She still needed three more lines on her arm. She'd save the other side for later; she didn't want to get to her belly just yet. She had a feeling she wouldn't be stopping anytime soon.

Not at the rate she was going.

So, she slowly and steadily worked her way up her arm, leaving an inch between each cut, until there were five slits on her left arm, her forearm covered in blood. She took a moment to catch her breath; her heart was pounding in her ears, and she could barely process what had just happened.

She'd slipped.

There was no going back; she couldn't just undo this. It was solid, and permanent, and it had never felt so good. She thrived on this; the rush of adrenaline, the surge of power flooding her veins.

For the first time in two days, she felt alive.

And she intended to keep it that way.

* * *

><p>Five months later, she stood on the catwalk, overlooking the bullpen. Jethro had been back for a few weeks, and that damn mustache was finally gone. But he still didn't remember their relationship; he'd called her Shannon twice, and they'd fought about Paris and Europe more than she'd have liked to.<p>

And now, it appeared that the blonde in the uniform had caught his attention.

Lieutenant Colonel Hollis Mann was currently in the bullpen, batting those big blue eyes at Jethro, and although the uniform covered her curves slightly, Jenny could tell that the woman had an attractive body.

The look in Jethro's eyes was thirty seconds from driving her to a razor.

But, she controlled herself. She hadn't cut for seven weeks, and she intended on keeping her streak. Just because Jethro didn't remember what their life had been like before didn't mean she had to continue to ruin hers by cutting lines into her arms.

She swallowed as she watched Jethro's eyes watch Mann's ass as she walked back and forth in the bullpen, her eyes on the screen. But Jenny knew the other woman knew that Jethro was watching; you didn't _not_ feel those eyes when they were on you or your body.

His eyes suddenly flicked up to hers, the blue startling. Her face was neutral, but she was boiling inside.

And with the turn of her heel, she stalked back into her office, and slipped the worn dog tags-the ones that had been on her neck since he'd given them to her a few days after her kidnapping- off of her head and stowed them deep in her desk, locking them in the back compartment. Putting the key back in its place, she took a deep breath, calming herself.

The dog tags would remain locked away, just like her feelings for him.

She would try to fall out of love with him-just like he'd fallen out of love with her.


End file.
